Added to the list of
‘things to do before you die,’ should
be ‘hearing Monteverdi’s 1610 Vespers
in as good a performance as you can
find’. I’ve never heard it live, but
until now the closest I’ve felt to hearing
the ‘real thing’ has been John Eliot
Gardiner’s 1989 recording at the Basilica
di San Marco in Venice, the church for
which Monteverdi used the 1610 Vespers
as his audition material. The vast acoustic
of St. Mark’s is certainly an impressive
factor in the Gardiner recording, but
with St. Jude-on-the-Hill we are not
far off a four second reverb, which
has pretty much the same effect but
without Venice’s sense of airship-hangar
infinity.

There are many differences
between these two versions, and with
the Early Music movement in a constant
state of flux and development I don’t
propose analysing the benefits or otherwise
of the various editions and performance
ideals which different versions present.
Robert King created his own transcription
of the Vespers while a student in 1979,
and maintains that most of the decisions
he made then still seemed ‘pretty sound’
when he came to revise his work for
the 2004 BBC Proms. With twenty-five
years of performing experience in between,
King seems to know what he is talking
about. In refusing to provide ‘added
tinsel’ to the work and presenting it
in as original a form as possible we
can value this recording as being at
the forefront of modern thought on the
piece.

Whatever the arguments,
this new recording has been a revelation
to me. The now quite elderly Gardiner
performance is wonderful in many ways,
but I quite soon realised that A-B comparisons
would be as good as irrelevant. There
are of course the differences in soloists
and chorus to be considered, with prominent
vibrato becoming an issue with the earlier
version. What turns me off most now
is however the very distance, ‘atmosphere’
if you like, which attracted it to me
in the first place. There are many beautiful
moments with Gardiner, but with such
a huge stage the overall impression
is recessed and generalised. With King
every aspect of the performance is available
to the alert ear, and while you might
at first suspect an overly-analytical
recording of risking some lack in spiritual
content, the Hyperion/King combination
have all of this plus the sheer
impact of chorus and orchestra in closer,
refined detail. The difference, for
instance, in having the bass of the
organ pushing through and supporting
the weight of the whole ensemble is
something more than just an added bonus.
Hearing the dissonances laid bare in,
say, the Dixit Dominus, has the
effect of polishing away any woolliness,
and Monteverdi’s composition comes up
sounding strikingly new and remarkably
adventurous, even today.

King’s forces provide
a sumptuous sound where required, his
24-strong choir and 19-piece orchestra
being large enough to give all of the
dynamic contrasts one could hope for.
Each of the soloists sing with palpable
commitment and sym/empathy with the
text. I love James Gilchrist’s coquettish
little glissando on one of the repetitions
of Nigra sum, sed formosa, Carolyn
Sampson and Rebecca Outram’s soprano
duets are a sheer delight, and Charles
Daniel’s voice has an attractive, ringing
purity, which is the icing on a rich
vocal cake filled with nuggets of subtle
inflection and superbly articulated
ornamentations.

All that is left is
the question; to transpose, or not to
transpose. Lauda Ierusalem is
transposed down a fourth in King’s version,
which admittedly has a dampening effect
on the festive nature of this piece.
The jury is still out on this one as
far as I’m concerned. King’s choral
dialogue is more urgent and secretive,
Gardiner’s in the original key is animated
and joyous. The result is a grander,
more stately Gloria and Amen
close with King - one of those passages
of music which inhabits one’s dreams
unbidden - but I’m still in awe of the
staggering, dramatic contrast Gardiner
gets at these moments.

The Hyperion version
has a further advantage in having the
Vespers complete on one disc,
and the remaining Magnificat and
Missa works on the second. The
two Magnificat versions get a
truly magnificent reading as one might
expect, but prospective purchasers will
be intrigued by the less well known
Missa In illo tempore. The mass
is a progression from themes which appear
in a motet by Nicolas Gombert. Monteverdi
uses this material in a series of sophisticated
contrapuntal movements intended to demonstrate
his mastery of these techniques. This
‘a cappella’ based mass harks back to
earlier styles and possesses none of
the really revolutionary advances of
the Vespers. Nonetheless there
are enough Monteverdi fingerprints to
give us a sense of his personality.
The addition of this work gives this
Hyperion release a satisfying feel of
completeness.

Hyperion is to be complimented
on the speed with which this release
has hit the streets. Under four months
from recording to availability has to
be something of an achievement, especially
for a project of this magnitude. This
Monteverdi is truly mind-blowing. Vespers
virgins need seek no further, and serious
collectors are advised not to ignore
what may prove to be more than one reviewer’s
‘disc of the year’. All my other versions
of these works have now sadly been relegated
to ‘inaccessible cupboard behind the
sofa’ and this one now stands among
the select ‘immediately to hand’ collection:
I can’t imagine it being replaced any
time soon.

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